


Good Girl

by The_Stuttering_Kiwi



Category: British Actor Tom Hiddleston, British actor - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Actor Tom, Actor Tom Hiddleston, Adultery, Cheater, Depression, Dirty Talk, Dom - Freeform, Dom/sub, Dominant, F/M, Smut, Submissive, co-worker, personal assistant, sub, tom hiddleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6824662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Stuttering_Kiwi/pseuds/The_Stuttering_Kiwi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting Tom by chance in a cafe, he decides to take you on as his personal assistant.  Not too long after, things take a turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You know that old saying, “wrong place, wrong time”?  I used to think that was bullshit.  But now, from my nest of self-loathing I call my hotel room, I am starting to see some truth in it.  I mean, maybe I was stupid to think that running into Tom Hiddleston by chance after the worst six months of my life would turn out to be a good thing. 

Even after we hit it off and he offered me a job as his personal assistant, I thought that my husband of seven years leaving and our house burning down in a freak accident I had stuck gold.  I mean, how could the stars align with such bad luck, only to hand me enough money to go abroad and do some serious soul-searching and land myself in Tom’s favorite café where we happened to frequent at the same time nearly every day.  How did I manage to pick my trip for the same time he was between movies and taking a well deserved break?  The angels were certainly singing in my favor when he sat down across from me.

“It was your broken heartedness.” He tried to explain, months later, when I was drunk and wanting an explanation as to why he chose me, a girl from nowhere.  He tried to explain that he saw some kind of beauty in it—but at the time I was way too drunk to care, all I had heard was my name and beautiful in the same sentence, spoken by that glorious mouth that had just been on my most intimate places just moments before.

Drunkenness is what started this whole mess, my husband coming home—drunk—telliing me that he had fucked my then best friend and that he was leaving me to be with her.  Needless to say they had split just as I received the papers that the divorce was final and I zipped up my suitcase.  Drunkenness is what made my fall into bed with my employer, call him things what in the sober light of day made me blush a furious shade of scarlet.

Drunkenness was what made me submit to Tom Hiddleston completely.

I may just swear off drinking forever.

Back then my only concern was that I didn’t want whatever this relationship was to interfere with work.  I mean, if I forgot to have his trailer stocked with his favorite sweets because I was too busy answering emails and setting up interviews, did that mean I didn’t get to orgasm that night? No, I didn’t think so, and thankfully neither did he.

Work and play he called it.

This meant no one knew about our little arrangement, aside from the fact that our hotel rooms were always right next to one another and always were ajoining rooms—he was able to come into my room anytime he wanted, sometimes when I was sound asleep waking up to his fingers tracing my spine and whispering filthy things in my ear.  There was no hesitation when I rolled over and opened my legs for him.

Oh, how I squirmed when he called me a good girl—even on the bad days when filming seemed like too much work or the screaming fans just wouldn’t take a hint and all he needed was a good fuck to relax I was more than happy to oblige—being used by him was not necessarily a bad thing.

Drunkenness is what made me go to bed early from a party the actors were having, they just finished the scene that plagued them for days and they finally got it, large amounts of alcohol was consumed that night. I told Tom goodnight and our little phrase that meant that I would leave my side of the adjoining door unlocked.  He nodded in agreement and went back to flirting with his gorgeous co-star.  That was one of his weaknesses flirting.  He did it with everyone and at first it was hard to overcome but after a while I started to over look it, I mean, it was _me_ he always crawled into bed with.

But that night I didn’t hear the door creak open or his soft footsteps pad across the plush carpet as I feigned sleep, wondering if he would wake me up or just crawl on top of me and fuck me awake or he would think so anyway.  That night I heard his hotel room door open and close and his quiet chuckle and the light sound of someone else.  I couldn’t breathe as I heard the unmistakable sounds of kissing mingled with moans and the sound of someone getting fucked against the wall.  I sat up and put a shaking hand against the plaster and drywall to feel the vibrations.

“Such a good girl.” I heard him murmur and she sighed in response, like those four words made her world spin like they did mine every night. 

I heard the tell tale grunt of pleasure as he emptied himself inside of her or at least that’s what I imagined. Once the sounds died down I stood on numb legs and locked the door to his room.  Called down to the front desk and requested that no one come and clean my room until I called to say otherwise.  I schedule a text to be send in the morning warning of my possibly food poisoning or stomach bug and that I would be out of commission for a few days as I didn’t want to get anyone else sick.

I closed the curtains tight so the sun couldn’t peak through and then I crawled back into bed. 

That was almost a week ago, or I would guess, I haven’t checked my phone and the only tell tale signs that time is still moving is the drone and hum of people moving out in the hallway going about their lives.

That and Tom knocking on the door, begging me to answer and open the door, “Like a good girl”.


	2. Chapter 2

Apparently Tom wasn’t getting the hint. I was quickly getting annoyed. 

“Please? Just be a good girl and answer the door!” he pleaded for what seemed like the hundredth time, “If you don’t answer, I swear I will break this door down!” 

I had to admit he did sound sincere. On weak legs, I untangled myself from the blankets and dragged myself to the door.

“Please, just—”

“Do not call me that,” I spoke each word slowly and with as much venom as I could muster.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He looked sheepish, which was not a normal thing for me to see, but it didn’t stir the black and cold that swirled inside me.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He walked into the room, but since I still had the curtains drawn and the lights off, he kept stepping on things.

“Well, I’m alive,” I scoffed.

“Let’s get some light in here.”

“No, can you just go?” But it was too late; his long legs made for the windows, and he threw back the drapes allowing the sun to beam in, casting it’s too bright light on the tangible evidence of my depression.

“Well…I guess I should have worried about you starving.”

No, I hadn’t starved. I called down to the front desk and had them bring me up a stock of sodas, chips, and sweets, and for them to bring them up when all the actors had left to go film. The aftermath of this was all over the floor and stained on my clothes and bedding.

“Look, why don’t you get in the bath and get some clean clothes on and I’ll clean this up and get you some actual food?”

I wanted to tell him what he could do with his “actual food”, but as I ran my tongue over my teeth, I relented. Without a word, I padded to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. It took me a minute to realize what I was seeing in the mirror. Someone with lank, greasy hair, with the odd food particles in it looked back. The dark circles under my eyes made me look about ten years older; let’s not even talk about the stained clothes.

I reached for my toothbrush and after adding a liberal about of paste began to brush vigorously. I think I saw a bit of blood when I spit and rinsed. Starting the tap in the tub, I let the steaming water fill and slipped in, my skin tingling from the heat. I lathered up and shaved my legs, washed my hair twice, and put a generous amount of conditioner on the now cleans stands—and there I lay, letting the conditioner do its magic and the water turn cold until my fingertips resembled raisins.

Dreading having to face Tom again , I got out of the tub and wrapped myself tightly in a fluffy towel, and after opening the bathroom door, I was greeted with a clean hotel room. The bed had fresh linen on it and the trash that littered the floor had been thrown away. Tom sat on the couch, waiting patiently for me.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the several covered dishes that were on the table in front of him.

“Just some of your favorite foods.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “I think I know you well enough by now.”

I sat on the floor with my back to the couch and pulled the nearest plate toward me, groaning as the smell of french fries hit my nose. I polished off half the plate in record time. Tom stood, and I watched cautiously as his long legs made for the bathroom. When he came back, he sat behind me and gently took my hair in his hands and began brushing it, making sure to get every knot and tangle. I wanted to pull away from him and not let him think I had forgiven him—to punish him by not allowing him to get close, but my body betrayed me by relishing in the intimacy.

As good as it felt, I tried to ignore it as I picked my way through the rest of the dishes. I had to admit, after a good meal I did feel more human.

“I guess you want to talk about—” I started, but Tom interrupted me.

“Later. Take a nap and we can talk about it when you wake up.”

A nap sounded good to my full belly, —but I didn’t want to sleep, I wanted to talk about what happened, I wanted to get it over with.

“So, you wanted to talk?” I began.

“I really think—“

“I don’t give a damn what you think.  Talk or get out.” I pushed myself away from his legs and moved up to sit on the far end of the couch, legs and arms crossed, waiting.

 “I am so sorry.”

“I figured you would start with that.” I was unmoved.

“It was incredibly foolish…but I had no idea…”

“You had no idea what?”

“I had no idea what this had turned into,” he admitted.

“You thought we were just fucking? Just having a good time?”I wanted to sound angry, but at the same time, I hadn’t realized how much I had fallen for him until I heard him with someone else.

“Yes.”

“That makes me feel so much better.”

Tom looked at me sadly, “I never, ever would have if I had known, truly. But I know my ignorance is no excuse for what I did.”

“You know, I didn’t feel this bad when my ex left me. I mean, it hurt, sure, but this? This is…I gave you so much more than I ever did him. But…I guess I didn’t even realize it fully at the time.”

We sat in silence for a long while, until he reached for an envelope on the table I hadn’t noticed before. 

“It’s for you.” He handed it to me.

“It’s a plane ticket…to London?” My eyes widened.

“Luke and my sisters are on standby to help you pack up your things.”

“Are…are you firing me?” Tears welled up immediately at the notion of being rejected a second time.

“Oh, god, no! I just figured you wouldn’t want to stay on.” He took the ticket and tossed it to the floor, taking my hands in his.

I thought of my little guest house on his property, which in truth, used to be the main house while his was new and more modern. The idea of leaving my perfect cottage and its convenient proximity to him nearly drove me to hysterics. I didn’t want to have to start over again…

But, how could I stay?


End file.
